


The Ordeal Of Bending Over

by hannibanni753



Series: We Reap What We Sow [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Hints of explicit rating in the second chapter, M/M, Pre-Slash, Revenge, Rope Bondage, Torture, a bit - Freeform, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibanni753/pseuds/hannibanni753
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q found an excuse for torturing Bond by making it about a mysterious device no one had ever laid eyes on.<br/>He then was surprised, when 007 found an equally physical way to retaliate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basing on this pic:  
> https://scontent-waw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xlf1/v/t1.0-0/s480x480/12741878_1675644466025118_8318662402079176834_n.jpg?oh=d4dfdc120c180a147ea49438cf88ead1&oe=576F52AC
> 
> Prompt: Q gives Bond a torture training and is all smug as he leaves him like that. Then Bond takes his revenege on poor Q who always hated PE and tied him up like that that and distracts him with sexual innuendos and dips inside casually from time to time and teases Q when Q trembles with exhaustion. Q glares.

"Ah there you are, Double Oh Seven - back among the living I see. For a moment there I thought I might've overstrained you a little..."

Q said absentmindedly, while checking the charts on his monitor. It wasn't so much the words Q uttered that irked Bond so much, rather the way the arrogance emanated so offhandedly from him. Beyond that, Bond had the suspicion that the nonchalance that Q applied, while he ascertained the stability of Bond's heart rate, was intentional. That little shit was pushing it. And Bond knew that the young man must have been aware of it, because the restraints were still in place. Q wasn't mental after all.

"So, Quartermaster, what is keeping me, if I may ask?" He tried to keep the threatening tone in check.

"I'm not done with evaluating the data."

"Oh, keeping track of the intensity and duration of my screams wasn't enough to filter out the vital information you so urgently needed for adjustments of mysterious devices no one has ever seen before except for you?"

Q looked up then, or rather down on Bond, over the rims of his glasses and reprimanded him:

"Of course not. Are you implying that I take joy in electrocuting you?"

Bond just narrowed his eyes, because what could he do?

"I can assure you," Turning back to the monitor and righting his glasses in his prim and self-important manner, Q added: "all my tests are limited to the absolute necessities."

But Bond wasn't fooled, the stuck up sadist over there was enjoying himself immensely. After some more typing and waiting and evaluating, Q finally called his assistant in to release Bond. When he was free, Q was nowhere to be seen. The boy had at least some survival instincts, he had to give him that. Even though Bond really felt like he was run over three times, he needed to let off some steam about this. So he went for the shooting range, telling himself Q would pay for this eventually.

Revenge, after all, was a dish best served cold. So he waited.

\--------

During the following weeks, Bond made himself scarce, watching from a distance, gathering information, ever the predator. The slightest bit of information about Q was like a bite of meat for a starving lion that knew, if he just waited patiently enough, he would take the big piece in time.

What Bond had known before was Q's fear of flying, but it wasn't probable that he could use that to his advantage in the near future. Also, he apparently had an aversion to mushrooms and vinegar, but somehow letting him end up in a situation that required him to eat these ingredients seemed like way too much effort for way too little effect. That wouldn't teach him a lesson in humility, that was just weird. But finally, Bond snapped up something possibly useful: Q didn't like sports. Well - that one was obvious, but apparently he had hated this part of school so much he developed a special mannerism. Whenever PE was next, Q must have gotten all sweaty and feverish to a degree that made even the teachers nervous so they would send him home or to the library to study some more theory. Of course, he wouldn't mind _that_ , the swot, Bond thought to himself.

Anyway, Bond got some information he could work with. Now he'd just have to wait for a perfect opportunity. And since the torture session had slowly been falling into oblivion - at least for Q - the boffin seemed to relax around Bond again. All the better for Bond.

After two months his patience finally paid off: Q was required personally in the countryside to check out some chemicals that were found on a dead spy's body. He had to compare them to the samples of a few other MI6 cases that involved poison with traces of rare chemicals. If they matched they'd finally have the connection they had been looking for so desperately for months. It would be quite the break-through.

As luck would have it, Bond was assigned to accompany Q. A few miles before they turned up at the crime scene, Bond made out a deserted lake in the distance and ideas were forming in his head. But ever the professional, the job came first. So he let Q take his samples, analyze them and fix everything up to his satisfaction. Bond patiently stood there, enjoying the cool breeze. It was the beginning of September, the temperature was surprisingly high, but the wind made it seem a little cooler. If the sun stayed out, he might even take a swim in the lake he saw earlier, before heading back on the three hour drive...

When Q and his equipment was all packed up and ready, they got back in the car. Arriving at the crossroads that led to the lake, Bond wordlessly turned right. Q looked up from his laptop surprised, and what had been a companionable silence swiftly changed into tension.

"Where are we going?"

Q demanded, with a barely recognizable waver in his voice. Bond just smirked and answered:

"I saw a lake before, and I thought I'd like to check it out, get some fresh air."

"Can't you do that in your spare time?"

Q was annoyed, though the tension in his shoulders only ceased marginally, as Bond noticed.

"Don't look so grim, Q - contrary to belief, sun beams every now and then won't do you any harm."

The grumpier Q got, the higher Bond's spirits were lifted. Oh, if the man only knew, what Bond had planned for him...

By the time they arrived, the agent's grin was a malicious thing. He got out of the car cheerfully and when Q didn't immediately follow, he opened his door and half dragged him out by his arm.

"Alright, alright. Stop it! I can walk on my own, thank you very much."

Indeed very unused to sunlight, Q had to blink several times until his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Looking around he had to admit that Bond was right and some nature for a change was nice after all. He didn't know how much his opinion would change in the next moments...

\-------

While Q was walking a little closer to the jetty that led into the lake, he didn't notice that Bond went back to the car to get some pieces of rope from the trunk. And because Q was in thought he made it very easy on Bond to sneak up on him without having to hide the items that would become the downfall of the genius.

Suddenly things went very quickly. Bond dropped the ropes, and before Q could turn to look what that noise had been, Bond whirled him around and in the process removed Q's coat that was two sizes too big for him anyway.

"What the - ?... _Ow!_ "

Without getting a chance to catch his balance, he was turned again and facing the lake, but his arms were pushed up his back. Caught in the Double Oh agent's iron grip there was no escaping. Bond made use of the first piece of rope by skilfully winding it around Q's forearms and knotting it in a way that left enough space for circulation, but still no give for getting free.

"Bond, what the he...chrm, uhm..."

Having lost his voice for a second there, Q tried again and this time couldn't keep the fear out of his voice, when he meant to say jokingly:

"You're not going to chain me to some piece of concrete and sink me on the ground of the lake, are you?"

Chuckling while he reached for the second rope, Bond answered:

"No, Q, I've planned nothing so dramatic. But if I had to give you a hint of some kind... a sinking feeling might be involved." Now Q _had_ to physically hear the waggishness in Bond's tone.

The Quartermaster, however, didn't take as much comfort from the agent's answer as he would have liked. So for once, he shut his mouth and swallowed. For there was no way that a flight attempt was going to get him somewhere (safe).

That second rope Bond chose to use not so much for restricting Q's range of motion, but for adding a tight feeling to his chest. He almost bubbled over with laughter at his own bad pun in his head. Now that he had the cocky bastard practically subdued, his mood couldn't seem to get any better. He laid the rope across the young man's chest and around his arms two times and drew it tight, but again left enough space to fit four of his fingers between the material and Q's body.

When he was done with that, he picked up the rest of the rope and steered Q towards the jetty and on to the very end of it. _That_ made Q nervous enough to burst out:

"Double Oh Seven, whatever unresolved issues you have with me, I'm sure there's another way to solve this!"

When the only answer he got was silence and another shove forward, his pulse quickened and he couldn't control the fidgeting of his hands and wrists due to his instinctual need to free himself.

"Look! If this is about that experiment with the current a few weeks back, I... I - " He tried in a shrill, panicked voice.

"Shut it, Q!" Bond interrupted in a voice that wasn't unfriendly, but yet turning a slight nuance irritated, which silenced Q immediately. If anything the boy recognized a cue, when there was one.

That was a trait Bond liked about him. But he wouldn't tell _him_ that. No need to spur his self-esteem any more.

While it was much too cold for every other person to take a bath, Bond was used to way lower temperatures and therefore thought that the easiest way to get Q in a position of his liking was by stepping into the water himself. Unlike most lakes this one had very clear water and a gravel beach. It must have been prepared artificially. Bond didn't care either way and, while Q watched him warily, after dressing down to his underpants, he made Q kneel at the very edge of the jetty and stepped in the cold water without hesitation. If he were alone, he'd enjoy a swim very much right now. But his other plans were much more promising.

Without thinking too much about how to approach the technicality of tying Q in the most efficient way, he made no bones about it, grabbed Q by the neck and dipped his head under water relentlessly. Hit by the shock of the cold water and the action itself, Q lost his balance and would have tipped over completely, if Bond hadn't anticipated it. Swiftly he gripped the lean man by his hips and pushed his thighs back, so that he went from his kneeling position into lying flat on the wood, well his legs at least. His upper body was hanging down.

Q would have shouted his surprise and outrage, only did he not want to swallow that water. So instead, he focused on not breathing at all. That gave Bond the time to adjust the legs of the Quartermaster the way he wanted and quickly tie them down to the surface with the three remaining ropes. One went around Q's ankles, another around the thighs and the last one right under Q's behind, which lay exactly on the edge of the jetty. _Now he should have enough leverage to push himself out of the water with the muscles of his abdomen,_ Bond mused.

When Q realized that Bond wouldn't change anything anymore or - God forbid! - _help_ him out of this situation, he struggled and tried to get above water with the intent to shout at Bond what the hell he was trying to gain with that. But also, he needed air desperately. But being as unathletic as Q was, this was easier said than done.

Even Bond noticed, so being the kind man that he was, he helped him push up (this once) to put his body in a horizontal line. Now that his feet were secured to the surface, keeping that position wasn't as hard as one might think - for half a minute or so. Still gasping from his head-first dive and the shock and the straining position he had suddenly found himself in, Q couldn't even utter a word of distress. Concentrating fully on NOT dropping down in a sudden and fatal lack of exertion, he wasn't even able to _think_ of ways to change Bond's mind.

Q's thoughts were whirling - this couldn't be right, Bond couldn't be serious. Any second now, he'd have to release him again. But when he spared a quick glance at Bond, he was just leaning there, in the cold water, watching him, hair dripping with lake water, glasses all wet and unhelpful - and Bond, Bond did nothing. He was _lounging_ there in the water.

Q wasn't physically prepared for this. After only seconds, his stomach was burning from the stretch, his back was aching too, and his arms were hurting from all the fighting that he had subconsciously done to get out of this unnatural position. The full body tension was tiring him very quickly, the first tremors of the strain showed, so he thought - before he had to do an involuntary dive again, he might as well try to appease Bond. But Q's understanding of appeasement and Bond's understanding of it, well, let's say they differed.

"What you're doing here is tort- !"

SPLASH.

\-------

Bond had been watching every twitch and quivering of Q's muscles. The lad wouldn't last very long, but Bond wouldn't be a good spy, if he didn't find ways to draw this out. Also, he knew Q's facial expressions by heart now, so it wasn't hard to anticipate the verbal attack. Knowing Q, he wouldn't leave his condescending behaviour behind at the first sign of defeat. So Bond had no hard time giving the boy a piece of his mind.

Blinking up at the sun and enjoying the warmth, Bond more felt than heard the drawing in of breath that heralded the familiar tirade of his Quartermaster. Making short work of it, Bond casually dipped Q's head under water with one hand without even tilting his head. He smiled when the resistance wasn't even there - Q bent over like a twig in a tornado. And the peaceful silence continued on - except for some twittering birds and some awkward water-splashing from below. Q was hanging under water right up to where his chest began. His cardigan only was wet to the shoulders. The rest of him was dry as a bone. Must be a weird feeling, Bond wondered. Well, he wouldn't know.

Slowly and with obvious effort the young man fought his way back to the surface of the water and immediately took a deep breath. That finally made Bond glance over at Q. The genius was shaking and swinging, trying hard to keep his head out of the water. But he didn't manage to keep the top of his hair out. He only just so struggled to keep his airway free. After a gruesome fight with gravitation, he manoeuvred himself back into a horizontal line.

"What took you so long, Q? How do you like putting YOUR back into it?"

\-------

If Q weren't so busy with frantically fighting his restraints and panting with desperate urgency, face in a dogged expression - he might have given Bond a glare of legendary dimension. Under the current circumstances, however, he was lucky, if he found the strength to remain in that horizontal position that was slightly less straining - at least that's what he told himself.

Besides, he wasn't so sure at this point, if Bond would even save him from drowning, so he better saved his breath... _literally_ , he added with a grimace to himself. Then the quivering got worse exponentially within two minutes, and there was a moment, when Q half dropped down again, before he caught himself. He let out a groan of pain that he'd be embarrassed about in any other circumstances. But now he simply had no strength left to care. He was swinging dangerously between his effort of lifting his body up again and dropping completely in the water. He almost looked comically, like a robot that was stuck on a loop of movement.

"What's wrong? Can't get it up anymore?"

Bond smirked unhelpfully, the wanker. It was hard to ignore him like this, and eventually that statement was the crucial reason for his second downfall.

\--------

Bond loved his puns. He also loved the way that the rest of Q's body was dry and so out of order. He was tempted, oh so tempted to let his fingers wander... but no! No - later maybe.

In the meantime, Q was struggling enormously. He hated physical exertion and therefore felt like he was already at the end of his tether. His lungs were burning. He so desperately needed air - and the most excruciating fact was that he could _feel_ the breeze grazing his fingers. He was SO close and yet there was an unyielding obstacle between him and the life-saving oxygen - his lack of muscle mass.

Why didn't Bond help him? Couldn't he _see_ the defeat in his body? Hanging upside-down, blood was gathering in his head and he felt a bit disoriented, but he was sure, Bond was standing just there! Or was he?

_God_ , how he needed to take a breath. He tried swinging back and forth again, but without his hands, it was an ordeal he couldn't overcome. In a desperate fit he pulled at his restraints and accidentally let out the air he had kept in. Now he was in a panic. He swung back more frantically and by tilting his head to the side, part of his mouth broke the surface of the water. In a gulping sound he half swallowed some water and half dragged in a bit of air. But it wasn't nearly enough. And the swallowing made him need to cough, but he couldn't afford that right now, so he oppressed it.

In a combined effort of panic-induced adrenaline and his pathetic excuse of abs, after a minute rest, he managed to swing up that far that he almost overbent his back. In an inhuman effort he adjusted himself. Also, he tried to grasp the seam of his trousers with his hands to gain _some_ kind of leverage. The ropes cut his legs painfully, because he was trying to put his weight on them and leave as little as possible to his battered abdomen and back.

Also, he was panting hard, or at least he tried, because bloody Bond _had_ to bind his chest. So _of course_ he couldn't take as deep a breath as he would have liked or needed. But now the water also was running down his neck and seeping through his clothes. Because of the cold wind that _had_ to be bloody coming up, he was then subjected to a full-body shiver and almost lost his tension again.

"Can't _shake_ an _impending_ feeling of _submission_ , can you?"

Bond offered, while lazily stroking in the water and circling Q, never more than a few feet away.

_To hell with that man and his bad puns,_ Q thought angrily and with an edge of desperation. He felt tears gathering in his eyes - Oh, but he'd voluntarily dive back in, before he let James Bond see him cry, and if he came back up with a bit more salty drops falling down his face, he didn't have to tell anyone.

\-------


	2. Chapter 2

When Bond came back, he leaned against the decaying wood Q was tied to. First thing, naturally, he loosened Q's iron grip on his trousers and pushed them down and out of reach, exposing the beginning of Q's bum cleft. That resulted in a dangerous quiver and a strained huff of the vexed man.

Bond then went on to push the clothing of the boffin up to expose the hint of Q's abs in order to softly trace them with his fingers. They were all hot and shivery from exertion. And the touch put Q over the edge. He barely managed a "BOND, please! I can't -" before you heard a splash.

Bond, the bastard, of course wouldn't rescue him immediately, but waited a few more moments to make sure Q really had given his all, and instead kept stroking the outlines of the newly built tiny muscles - well muscles, if you squinted... But no worries! Bond would make sure, Q would have something to show for by the end of the day.

Q was swinging in half-hearted attempts to get out of the water. Bond found them not desperate enough for his tastes, so he directed his attention back to the flat stomach of the man and shoved the impertinent clothing that denied him the view further down. It was a shame he had done the rope across the chest, because now the clothes were stuck there, and James would have bet that Q's nipples were hard, if only from the friction and the cold.

Well, then he would have to make do with the way his fingers raised goose bumps wherever they wandered. Q attempted to evade Bond's touch, but he was about as successful with that as he was with getting enough air. When he flinched away from Bond's fingers, he swung right into the other hand. Bond enjoyed himself enormously in watching the delicate body fighting its doom.

Suddenly Bond delivered a mean pinch into Q's side, which made him cringe hard. Apparently he accidentally swallowed some water, too, because his battered abs were contracting viciously. It also led to a more agitated swinging anew.

Bond watched with mild interest. Obviously, Q's new tactic was to swing forward this time to bend his body into a curve in order to get the badly needed air by breaking the surface with his face first. After one successful swing and gulp of air, Bond decided that he couldn't allow it. It came close to cheating, he found. Q certainly would agree with him, had he not his own mouthful to deal with, Bond was sure of it.

So at the second swing, the agent intervened by nudging Q's forehead with his digit back below the surface. It was so easy. Bond couldn't contain the single giggle that forced itself out.

Q meanwhile had a fit of panic, as it seemed. So Bond indulgently kept directing Q the other way with his digit pressing against the forehead, until Q got the message. Content with the fast-working intelligence of that familiar brain - apparently even when deprived of oxygen - Bond patted Q's bum good-naturedly.

\-------

Q wanted nothing more than for it to end. The need for oxygen was more present than ever, his sight got blurry around the edges - not that he could be sure, though, if that did come from the lack of air, because he'd lost his glasses. Now Bond was also mocking him with the demeaning patting of his behind.

What if he gave in? Letting out his breath, no more struggling? Bond _would_ have to rescue him, right? He wouldn't leave him, surely? Sure, the torture exercise a few weeks back _had been_ borderline... but he had thought Bond could take it, and naive as he was, when no immediate retaliation had come, he had thought they were good.

Well, apparently they weren't, he thought dryly. His humour was the only dry thing about his head at the moment.

When his lungs were about to burst, he let out his breath and fought to get up again, but this time he didn't make it further than immediately above the water level. He could only take two quick inhales, before the strength of his abs deserted him again. And this time he couldn't hold his breath as long either. The adrenaline had left him. Oh boy, he was so fucked.

\-------

As the intervals between Q's struggling efforts became shorter and he eventually didn't manage to take a breath anymore, Bond took pity on him, or rather - he went on to the next round.

With certainly no gentleness he gripped Q by his hair and pulled his head up. Despite the pain, the young man desperately gasped for air. Bond took advantage of the inability to speak and threw out another tease:

"Are your muscles letting you down? Literally I might add."

That earned him a heartfelt glare and he couldn't have been more gleeful. He let Q's chin rest on his shoulder for a bit, exploiting the proximity to intimately stroke the unwilling man's hair. The latter was still busy with his heaving chest, but mostly just glad and silently thankful that Bond would give him that, which, of course, Bond noticed and gave him a peck to the side of his head.

"It's wondrous how fast a person's cockiness can turn into modesty, if you find the right means for it. Wouldn't you agree, Q?" He mused aloud. When he got no answer, he added. "Or would you say, you haven't been brought so low as to being able to testify to that?"

Hearing the threat for what it was, Q indignantly hissed:

"No, Bond! Please, no more!"

That wasn't convincing enough a plea for Bond, however. So when he moved to step away, Q tried to hook his chin in Bond's shoulder. Ineffective, but Bond almost found it cute. He didn't fall for it, though.

"Please! I'd be much obliged, if you didn't - "

SPLASH.

Posh phrasing, one. Poker face, zero.

Bond was having the time of his life. Looking up, his gaze was now drawn to the barely exposed flesh of Q's rear.

\-------

Having the now familiar compressed feeling of too much water and too little air, Q couldn't help but notice Bond's warm hand working its way around his hip and seeking to open his trousers. Helpless as he was, he couldn't do much more about it than to stoicly endure.

Then Bond shoved the material down as far as the restraints allowed. Suddenly Q felt something cold trickling down his cleft, which made the young man jerk up further than he'd thought he'd get anymore. But more than drawing in another breath and hearing an infuriating "Hang in there, Q!" he didn't manage, before he dropped down like dead weight again.

Bond had apparently taken a handful of water to splash it over Q's arse. Great, the man never failed to surprise. In a _bad_ way.

Now, Bond was doing it again, and Q felt the water running down his crack both ways. Repeating it a third time, Bond now could watch as the genius shivered and ungracefully wiggled and squirmed, since the water had now reached his more intimate parts. And it was ice cold.

And - was Double Oh Seven now _blowing_ cold air at his arse?! If his blood hadn't already gathered in his head, he was sure he'd turn red as a tomato now at the latest.

\------

Bond liked to watch the way the little hairs on Q's skin raised, but he was annoyed by the ropes he had tied, because they prevented him from laying even more skin bare. So he unknotted the rope beneath Q's backside and pushed the trousers down further. Finally he could take the handfuls of water and trickle them right where Q was most sensitive. Also he spread his thighs a bit with one hand where they connected to the bum, so Bond could continue with his very entertaining game.

Estimating from the level of squirming, the boffin didn't seem to agree with the agent in regard to the level of entertainment. Well, if he didn't voice his concerns, Bond couldn't help the man, who was audibly drawing attention to himself only from time to time with some gasping that followed a low splashing sound.

Otherwise it was quiet and peaceful.

\-------

After what felt like hours for Q and only a blink of a moment for Bond, clouds were gathering. That's why Bond decided to untie the ropes that were holding Q to the jetty. When they were loose, Bond held the man in place by conveniently placing his hand on his backside, while pulling him up by the shoulder with his other hand.

"Now, Q, ready to dive back into work?"

Despite his exhaustion and burning muscles and freezing behind and head, Q exclaimed unwisely in a wave of exasperation:

"Oh for God's sake, Bond! Stop with those obnoxious puns!"

But that was all Bond had been waiting for and sent Q flying into the wetness. Q's hands were indeed still tied, but at least he could work with his legs, and the water was only waist deep. So finally, he came to a stand on his own two feet - Hallelujah! Panting, he turned to face Bond, half anticipating another attack. But the agent just stood there, grinning like a school boy, proud of his prank.

Q very urgently wanted to get out of the water, but in doing so, he would have to pass by Bond and that man - standing there with his strength-radiating body and seemingly immune to the cold water and wind – _that_ man was up to no good!

Also, if Q stepped further ashore, he just realized, his trousers would be still down! And with his hands immobilized he was incapable of covering himself. At an impasse here, he decided he had been forced to leave his pride along the way anyway, so he tentatively - so unlike himself - asked with chattering teeth:

“Can I come out now?”

His wary gaze met Bond’s shark like grin, as if he had thrown him a gift just then, which confirmed itself in the next moment:

“I don’t know, can you, Q? I mean, it’s a free country and all... Why, have you suddenly found someone worth coming out for?”

Q just frowned at the cheap joke. He was so done with it, so he just started wading towards the shore, looking grimly down on the water. At that reaction, Bond, the arse, just laughed out loud. Q prayed that he would be left alone. He was almost past Bond when he realized that the visibility problem down there was already quite prominent, so he froze – figuratively this time.

Bond read the situation immediately, of course, and grabbed Q happily.

“Now, let me help you with that.”

Unbalanced, Q staggered back and into the arms of the Double Oh.

“Up or down?” Bond asked lasciviously.

“Up, please.” Q answered in a subdued voice so unusual for him.

“You sure? You’ll stay cold for a lot longer and probably get sick.”

“Well, since I don’t have any spare clothes with me and I’d like to cover myself I have no other choice, now, do I, Bond?!”

“You could always get naked.”

“Like hell I will!”

And Bond’s grin was back.

“You know what? I think I’d like that. Besides, I don’t want to be responsible for getting the Quartermaster sick.”

“Oh, hell, as if you’d care! You self-righteous pri –“

SPLASH.

\-------

Q was growing on him, Bond thought. Why else would he spend so much time grinning down on him through the water? Taking the time to give him a moment to breathe, even? With most of his adversaries, Bond wouldn’t have bothered. The reason for that change, however, was concealing itself from him, because that little piece of shit under his hands was just as much a pain in the arse as any villain he had encountered.

While Bond kept musing, he almost didn’t notice that Q had gone very still a moment ago. And indeed when he lifted the young man’s face above the water, he didn’t hear the familiar coughing and gasping sounds. Suddenly scared for the genius, he rushed him to the shore and laid the still body in the grass. He seemed so pale and breakable, all of a sudden.

“Q? Q! Wake up!”

Frantically, he pushed down on Q’s chest and did the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. _Fuck, fuck, fuck..._ After a moment of paralyzing horror, Q coughed up some water and Bond turned him to the side.

“Thank God!... Jesus, Q, you had me there for a minute!”

After catching his breath somewhat, Q was exhausted and blinked up at Bond.

“What did you expect to happen exactly, when you held me under water for...like ever?!”

Bond just looked at him, awed that the man had his wits about him so soon after the near-death experience. Maybe there was still more to him than met the eye.

When a moment of silence passed and Q reckoned he’d get no answer to that, he asked instead:

“So do you consider us even now? Since I almost electrocuted you, I mean.” Q squinted his half blind eyes at Bond in a questioning look. “I’m just asking, because I think I can’t feel my arms anymore, you know.”

That elicited a genuine laugh from Bond and got him moving.

“You know, you DID tell your _assistant_ to untie me...!”

“But... there’s no assistant here, and we’re a three hour drive from London...?”

“Well, ...”

“No, no, Bond, you can’t possibly think of keeping me like this, just because of a stupid formality...!” He trailed off in shock, when he saw that glint in Bond’s eyes that meant he had made up his mind.

“I do SO appreciate you being such a clever boy!”

And with that he ruffled Q’s wet hair and lifted him up in order to carry him to the car. And when Q snuggled up to his shoulder to rest his chin on it, he pretended not to notice.


End file.
